"He has found out something," thought Gebb. "I wonder what it is? another mare's-nest, I expect. However, we'll see. I'll call to-morrow."
At ten o'clock next morning he was in Pimlico, and in the presence of Mr. Parge, who received him with a look of subdued triumph.
"Well, Absalom," said he, "have you discovered who killed Miss Gilmar?"
"No, I haven't, Simon; have you?"
"Yes. I found out the truth from--who do you think?"
"I don't know," said Gebb, impatiently. "Mrs. Presk, perhaps."
"No, not from the mistress, but from the maid--Matilda Crane."
Gebb looked at the ex-detective in amazement. "Why, what did she know about it?"
"She knew who visited Miss Gilmar on the night of the murder. I said you had not examined that girl properly, Absalom, so I sent for her to put a few questions myself. Then I discovered that she had found, cast into the grate among other papers, a letter written by the assassin to Miss Gilmar. Here it is."
Gebb took the bit of paper handed to him, and read as follows:--